Chapter 5

It is unnecessary to go through the details of our marvellous escape from the lowest dungeon of the royal Palace of SURVAN TSAUL, where for months we were immured on a constant diet of suet pudding. Of course we did escape, but only after killing ten thousand Mariannakookas, and then swimming for a mile in their blood. COODENT brought with him a very pretty _Skulrimehd_ who had grown attached to him, but she drooped and pined away after he lost his false teeth in crossing a river, and tried to replace them with orange-peel, a trick he had learnt at school. Sir HENRY's fight with She-who-will-never-Obey is still remembered. He will carry the marks of her nails on his cheeks to his grave. I myself am tired of wandering. "_Home, Sweet Home_," as the _Bab Ballads_ have it, is the place for me.

THE END.

* * * * *

AN UNREHEARSED EFFECT.

(_BY OUR OWN RECITER._)

I went to see the Pantomime this Christmas in our town. We laughed enough the opening night to bring the theatre down. The piece was _Burleybumbo_, _the Old Giant, and his Men_; _Fairy Starlight, Little Popsey, and the Demon of the Glen_. The Supers were collected from the local talent round, And for _Burleybumbo's_ servant the Blacksmith, JOHN, they found; A stalwart varlet was required to carry off his foes To Burleybumbo Castle, where he ate them as he chose. His minions, who wore hideous masks, had nothing much to say, So an IRVING was not wanted to do their part of the play. On this eventful night the house was packed from roof to pit, And the Manager was jubilant at having made a hit. The Curtain drawing slowly up, revealed a flowery glade, In which the _Fairy Starlight_ and her lovely maidens played. The wicked Demon then came on, and round the stage did glower; No mortal man could e'er withstand his wrath or evil power. Last of all came _Burleybumbo_ with his crew, a motley horde, Our old friend, Blacksmith JOHN, was in attendance on his lord. They were singing and carousing, when a man rushed in to say That a dozen wealthy travellers were coming down that way. The band dispersed, and hid themselves, in hopes that they might plunder The unsuspecting wayfarers. Alas! now came the blunder: Old JOHN he wouldn't hide himself, but coolly walked about Advancing to the footlights, he looked around--but hark! a shout:-- "Confound you! Dash my--! Just come off! Hi, you! Who are you? JOHN!" "Not if I knowsh it, jolly old pal! I've only just come on!" Thus saying, he lumbered round the stage. The Prompter's heart had sunk: No doubt about the matter--_Burleybumbo's_ man is drunk! "Come off! Come off!" from every wing was now the angry cry. "Me off, indeed! Oh, would yer? Sh'like to see the feller try!" _Burleybumbo_ then appeared, and vainly tried to drag him back. JOHN stove his pasteboard head in with a most refreshing crack. The wicked Demon now rushed on; his supernatural might Was very little use to him on this surprising night. He tried to push him down the glade, but here again JOHN sold him; He caught the Demon round the waist, and at the Prompter bowled him. Ah! such a shindy ne'er was seen, such riot and such rage-- It was the finest "rally" ever seen on any stage! 'Mid shrieks and cat-calls, whistles shrill, hysterics and guffaws, They rang the Curtain down amidst uproarious applause. The piece is still a great success; but, I regret to say, JOHN's name appears no longer in the bills of that fine play!

* * * * *

NOT INSIDE OUT.

Fair Maiden, you're looking a vision of beauty, You may comfort yourself you've no rival to fear; But you won't take it ill if I feel it my duty To whisper a word of advice in your ear.

Now, the word would be this--when the daylight is dawning, Or, at any rate, when it's more early than late, Pray remember the coachman, who, fitfully yawning Outside in the street, finds it weary to wait.

You reck not at all of the hours that are fleeting, You ask for an "extra"--you can't be denied. But though, doubtless, soft nothings may set your heart beating, Yet they're awfully cold for the people outside.

Want of thought, not of heart, is the reason as ever, So if you find leisure to read through this rhyme, When you order your carriage, in future endeavour To prevent any waiting--by being in time,

* * * * *

OUR BOOKING-OFFICE.

The Publisher of _The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine_, earnestly requests the reviewer, appealing to his heart in the reddest of red ink, on a slip of paper pasted on to the cover of the Magazine, not to extract and quote more than one column of "Talleyrand's Memoirs," which appear in this number for January. The Publisher of the _C.I.M.M._ does not appeal personally to the Baron--who is now the last, bar one, of the Barons, and that bar one is one at the Bar,--but, for all that, the Baron hereby and hereon takes his solummest Half-a-Davey or his entire Davey, that he will not write, engrave, or represent, or cause to be, &c, for purposes of quotation, one single word, much less line, of _Tallyho_--beg pardon, of _Talleyrand_,--extracts from whose memoirs are now appearing in the aforesaid _C.I.M.M._ But all he will say at present is this, that, if the secret and private Memoirs haven't got in them anything more thrilling or startling, or out of the merest common-place, than appears in this number of the _C.I.M.M._, then the Baron will say that he would prefer reading such contributions as M. de BLOWITZ's story of "How he became a Special," or _The Pigmies of the African Forest_ by HENRY M. STANLEY in the same number of this Mag.

What the Baron dearly loves is, ELLIOT STOCK-IN-TRADE _The Book-worm_, always most interesting to Book-worms, and almost as interesting to Book-grubs or Book-butterflies. By the way, the publishing office of _The Book-worm_ ought to be in Grub Street. For what sort of fish is _The Book-worm_ an attractive bait? I suppose there are queer fish in the Old Book trade that can take in any number of Book-worms, as is shown from a modern instance, well and wisely commented upon in this very number for January, No. 38, which is excellent food for worms; the whole series, indeed, must be a very Diet of Worms. Success to the _Book-worm_! May it grow to double the size, and be a glow-worm, to enlighten us in the bye-paths of literature. "_Prosit!_" says the Baron.

I would that some one would write of BROWNING's work as HENRY VAN DYKE has written of TENNYSON's. To the superficial and cursory reader of the Laureate, the Baron, sitting by the fire on a winter's night, the wind howling over the sea, and the snow drifting against the window, and being chucked in handfuls down the chimney, and frizzling on the fire, says, get this book, published by ELKIN MATHEWS: _ça donne à penser_, and this is its great merit. "Come into the Garden, Maud"--no, thank you, not to-night; but give me my shepherd's pipe, with the fragrant bird's-eye in it, with [Greek: ton grogon], while I sit by the cheerful fire, in the best of good company--my books.

Our Mr. GRIFFITHES (CHESTER, MAYHEW, BROOME, AND GRIFFITHES) has been all the way _From Bedford Row to Swazieland_, and has written a lively narrative of his perilous journey. He went on a professional retainer. You don't catch Bedford Row in Swazieland on other terms. Being there, he kept his eyes open, saw a good deal, and describes his impressions in racy fashion. He did not like the coffee served _en route_, and was disappointed with the Southern Cross; but on the whole enjoyed the trip. One would naturally expect that the price of his book would be six-and-eight-pence, or, regarding it in the form of a letter, three-and-fourpence, but BRADBURY, AGNEW, & Co. issue it at a shilling.

THE BARON DE BOOK-WORMS & Co.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ARBITRATION.

_Seal, suddenly emerging, loquitur_:--

Belay, you two lubbers, avast there! avast there! What signifies squalling and squabbling? You're both argufying a good bit too fast there, Whilst that which you stand on seems wobbling. You'll be in a mess, Messmates, shortly, the pair of you. Give _me_ a thought in the matter! _My_ interest's at stake, and it isn't quite fair of you Me to ignore 'midst your clatter.

If 'twere not for me, Mates, this cold Behring's Sea, Mates, Would hardly strike you as so tempting. Do grant your poor prey, if I may make so free, Mates, From slaughter some annual exempting! I'm worried and walloped without intermission Until even family duties Quite fail, whilst your countrymen cudgel and fish on. By Jingo, some of 'em are beauties!

My poor wife and children have not half a chance, Mates. That's not to your interest, I reckon. Cease shindy, and on a new course make advance, Mates, Where sense and humanity beckon. There's not much of either in cruelly clubbing My progeny all out of season; And if you are bent upon mutual drubbing, You must quite have parted with reason.

_Mare clausum_, be blowed! That's all BLAINE's big bow-wow, Mates. Men can't thus monopolise oceans. Diplomacy _must_ find a compromise now, Mates, And, well--I have told you _my_ notions. Give me a close-time,--I shall be very grateful-- And leave the Sea open! What more, Mates? For brothers like you to be huffing, is hateful. Be friends, think of me, and--_bong swor_, Mates!

[_Dives under._

* * * * *

UP-TO-TIME TABLE, FROM THE NORTH.

| Morning | Mineral | General |Traffic and| | Fast. |and Parl.| Express.|Even. Mail.| ---------------------+---------+---------+---------+-----------+ Edinburgh \ |7 A.M. to|11 A.M. A| Noon F | 9 P.M. L | (Waverley Station)/ | 9.30 | | | | Carlisle | 12.15 | ... | ... | ... | Hawick | 4.30 | B | ... | ... | Galashiels | 9.45 | ... | 2.15 G | 1 A.M. M | / | 1 P.M. | | | | Motherwell < |(Stopped | 4 P.M. C| 3.19 H | 3.20 N | \ |by riot) | | | | St. Margaret's Works | 3.30 | 5 D | ... | ... | Perth |9.45 A.M.| ... | 11.26 I | ... | Glasgow |12.30P.M.| ... | ... | ... | Aberfeldy | 6.13 | ... | ... | ... | Dundee |1.12 A.M.|3A.M.to 9| ... | ... | Inverness | 9.23 | ... | 3.5 J | ... | Aberdeen | 11.6 |7 P.M.? E|1 A.M. K | O | ---------------------+---------+---------+---------+-----------+

A--Takes delayed pig-iron and third-class passengers. B--Half of train stops here through breaking an axle-pin. C--Passengers, for protection, get under seats of carriages. D--Stops for repairs. E--Having had a collision at the junction for Aberfeldy, will come on, if there are any passengers equal to finishing the journey.

F--Starts under the management of a Director, and, owing to a misunderstanding, dashes off to Aberdeen, without stopping. G--Doesn't stop, but knocks over a station-master. H--Is pelted as it tears through the station by _ex-employés_. I--Knocks over another station-master. J--Meets a pilot-engine, which it splits in half. K--Goes at full speed through the end of the terminus, depositing the passengers in a heap in the middle of the town.

L--Train starts, made up of horse-boxes and luggage-vans full of three weeks' arrears of parcels, first-class carriages, Post-office van, fifty coal-trucks, and a wild beast show, the Directors wishing to make up for lost time. M--Train breaking down here, mail and passengers only forwarded. N--Train attacked by rioters. Pitched battle with the passengers. O--Telegram from Motherwell saying, that owing to police intervention, train starts the day after to-morrow.

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

TOO CIVIL BY HALF; OR, PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE.

(_A DRAMA FOUNDED--MORE OR LESS--UPON FACTS._)